


You Are A Gift

by clockworkrobots



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, extreme christmas fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 13:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkrobots/pseuds/clockworkrobots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>25 kisses for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are A Gift

  
One kiss for December 1st, stolen in a motel doorway. It remains quick and chaste before they’re interrupted, but for hours after it’s not the incoming cold that tingles at their lips.

On the night of December 2nd, Dean’s sleep is restless. He will not remember in the morning, but the fitful and fraught memories of dark and dirt and desperation that marr his dreams are replaced by silence with a press of lips against his forehead. 

By December 5th, Dean has not heard from Cas in several days. The absence is not unfamiliar, and neither is the twisting ache burgeoning in Dean's stomach. That night his dreams are not nightmares--cold forests now replaced by warm bodies--but Dean wakes up drenched in just as much sweat.

On December 9th, Cas finds Dean alone after a hunt, more bruised than battered, but still out of breath. Cas gives him the half hour drive back to his motel room to catch it.

Cas kisses him for the first time that night against the door. "You came back," Dean says, in between takes and scrapes of stubble against skin. A second, a third, a fourth kiss. 

"You didn't ask me to," Cas says, and with his wet and warm presses against his jaw adds: _I wanted to_.

Dean pulls back for a moment, lips flushed and cheeks red. "Thank you," he says, and Cas feels breathless, too.

At 12:06 a.m. on December 10th, Cas kisses Dean's bare shoulder as they fall together beneath the sheets.

The next week is one of stolen kisses. Cas kisses Dean over breakfast as Dean blushes and Sam smirks. Later, Dean kisses Cas on his wind bitten cheeks, asking "I thought angels didn't get cold?". Cas confirms they don't, but doesn't protest when Dean pulls his trenchcoat around him tighter, and steals another kiss atop his rosy nose.

On Christmas Eve, Dean indulges and buys the good beer instead of the cheap stuff. "Winchesters don't do Christmas," he says gruffly, twisting the caps off a couple bottles and handing one first to Sam and then to Cas. "But hey," he continues, "there's nothing like a good beer with family". Sam smiles into his bottle.

Later, Cas' kisses taste like barley and hops, and Dean finds he has never liked the taste so much as when on the tip of Cas' tongue.

The next morning is slow and without spectacle, and Dean and Cas take advantage of Sam's breakfast run to make each other _very_ merry. Cas kisses Dean ten times before Dean even gets out of bed.

When Dean returns from his flight to the bathroom he pounces back on the mattress. He kisses Cas for the 25th time on the 25th of December, long and sure, his still naked body pressed against the firm lines of his friend. 

When his breath is fully gifted into the lungs of the other, he asks with a flirty grin, "Would it be too cheesy to say all I wanted for Christmas was you?"

Cas frowns in mock consideration. "In this situation I'd say you should  take full advantage of the fact that the human concepts of cliché are somewhat lost on me," he decides finally, and smiles. "And," he says, hands moving up the freckled expanse of Dean's back, "it gives me the opportunity to make sure your wish comes true."

"I think you know more about cliché than you say, Mr. Love Actually."

"Indeed, my love _is_ actual."

"No, that's the name of a movie-- _wait,_ was that a _joke_?"

"Perhaps a poor example of one," Cas concedes.

And at that display or adorableness, Dean can't help himself, and doesn't stop at 26.

He maps the curves of Cas' smile. "It was cute," he whispers.

"I'm glad you think so," Cas replies, and Dean can feel the timbre of his voice rumble through his own ribs.

Dean kisses behind Cas' ear, black bed-ruffle hairs tickling at his eyelids. "You know, _you_ are kinda cute."

"I'm glad you think so."

Dean presses his face closer into Cas' neck, burying his nose in the scent and the presence of him. His next words are vital but quiet: "And I'm kind of in love with you."

Cas's arms encircle him tighter, as a shudder starts in his shoulders and racks down both of them. His face burrows in the crook of Deans collar, and even when they hear the click of Sam's key in the keyhole outside, they find it hard to let go.

  



End file.
